


If These Wings Could Fly

by RLandSBindaclub



Category: American Horror Story, D - Fandom, Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Baby, F/M, Sad, Single Parents, Tragedy, whouffle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-10 23:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RLandSBindaclub/pseuds/RLandSBindaclub
Summary: Almost eight years since he last visited. For him, it was 2 minutes. But when the Doctor opens the doors of the TARDIS one Wednesday morning, he realises he may be a bit too late ...Will he ever have what he used to cherish? Will his impossible girl ever forgive his mistakes?Will he find out the truth about Grace Tiffany Oswald?[Warning - Extreme plot twists, feels and sadness ahead.]





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> (This story starts off a bit crap at the start, I'll admit. The first few chapters were written when I wasn't very good at writing. I'll rewrite most of them as soon as the story is finished, but for now, new-reader, bear with the first few chapters for some actual decent (?) chapters and plots. I'll admit, from like chapter 15 and onwards, the plot is actually the best I've ever written. But please remember to give feedback on every chapter. Anyway - Thanks xx)

It hurt.

It hurt more than anything, ached more than anyone. It hurt more than any funeral, more than any let down, more than any disappointment. It hurt more than that one time she was one mark away from reaching top marks. It hurt more than when she lost her favourite toy, or when her grandmother's dog had to be put down.

She could even stretch to say it hurt almost as much as losing her mum. Because it did.

He had always promised to never leave her. He swore that he would never leave her. They were just friends, yet she yearned to be more. So much more. And so they were.

He had left her, crushed her soul, and it left her heart broken into millions upon millions of pieces.

That was seven years ago. She had finally moved on. She had a beautiful child and a steady job. Oh, her sweet little girl. Her sweet little Grace. Little Grace Tiffany Oswald with her cute little nose, dark brown hair and green eyes. Clara never knew Grace's father, or so she claimed, so naturally, her surname was Oswald. Oh, that child, with the cute yet cheeky grin and beautiful, kind heart.

It was a typical Wednesday morning. Grace, the little goofball, was running around the kitchen, sporting a Nutella moustache as she devoured a piece of toast lathered in chocolate spread. Clara was gathering her hair into a ponytail, getting ready to take Grace to school before going to her own job in Coal Hill.

Til she heard that noise. That sickeningly familiar vworp vworp that hadn't filled her ears for over 7 years.

The TARDIS.


	2. It's You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to post a new chapter twice a week on Wednesdays and Sundays. These first few are terrible, so bear with me.

It couldn't be the TARDIS, could it? No, she was imagining things, it couldn't possibly...

"Grace, sweetheart, run upstairs and fetch your jumper," Clara said to her young daughter, patting her on the head softly and sending her daughter up the stairs. "And remember to clean your face!" Clara ran to the front door when Grace was out of sight, opening it carefully.

-

He'd just finished one of his adventures with his beloved Clara. It was the best one he'd ever had, due to some particularly memorable events.

"See you next week, Doctor," Clara blushed, pecking the Doctor affectionately on the lips.

"And you, Clara," The Doctor smiled back, turning to walk back to the TARDIS, but not before kissing her soft hand delicately, like a blossoming rose petal.

"I'll miss you," Clara called after him. But by then, the Doctor was already in the TARDIS, fast-forwarding to the next Wednesday. Yes, that was technically cheating, but he couldn't wait a week for Clara. His Clara. His beautiful, smart human.

He stepped outside with great enthusiasm, being suddenly met by an unfamiliar, peculiar neighbourhood that he had never seen before. This wasn't the Maitland's house, where his beautiful companion lived. This was an itsy street with houses decorated whimsically, little dingy, posh cars and neatly trimmed gardens. He turned around with confusion a few times, observing the different houses and shrubs in the street.

"This isn't righ-" He felt a cold, hard slap collide with his angular face, and, in shock, spun at his heel, discovering his feisty little lover with a distraught look plaguing her beautiful, aged face.

"Get.Out." She growled, glaring daggers at the oblivious fool in front of her that called himself, 'the Doctor'. She was older, a considerable few years older, he could clearly point that out.

"Why? What's happened?" The Doctors voice rose an octave with concern, lines forming on his forehead as he desperately attempted to hug his former companion. She pushed him away coldly.

"What's happened?! " She repeated back to him with disbelief. "What's bloody happened?!" Her vision fogged as her deep brown eyes began to water and sting with the physical representation of ones sad memories; tears. "How could you do this to me?! I've been alone, all this fucking time!" Tears rolled down her perfect, pale cheeks as she spoke, biting her lip to refrain sobs from emerging from her mouth. She didn't want to show her vulnerability at that moment, standing in front of this almost stranger that she once loved. He was about to try and comfort her sudden outburst of unknown sadness when he overheard a tiny noise behind Clara, out of his sights. He peered over her shoulder and gasped silently to himself, shock absorbing his body and dread filling his gut.

A little girl, that resembled Clara remarkably, aside from her gentle green eyes, made her way happily through the doorway, looking away from them both, oblivious to the stranger or her mothers griefs.

"Mummy, I can't find my jump-" she began, looking up and jerking with surprise. "Mummy, who is this?"

"Grace!" Clara sighed, wiping her smudged cheeks with the back of her hand that the Doctor had only just moments ago kissed. "Inside, sweetheart, now." She wrapped her arms around the small girl and proceeded to walk back to the door.

"Leave, now," she simply stated with a cold tone to the Doctor, slamming the door harshly in his face and leaving his hearts broken.

What had he done?


	3. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient! Haven't been able to log in, but it's good to be back!

Honestly, he had no idea what crime her had committed towards Clara, nor who that little girl was. She had, scarily, looked exactly like Clara, save for her enchanting eyes, a piercing green compared to Clara's dark pools of brown. And that baffled him. He recognised those eyes, he had seen them before, and it was racking his brain. Where did he know them from?!

He had smartly decided to wait, this time. Clara needed plenty of time to calm down and he needed to be patient. He needed to have the spirit of his former male companion that had valiantly waited 2000 years for his love. So that's exactly what he did. With Rory's memory in his mind, he waited patiently, agonisingly slowly, time passing by at a snails pace. God, it was pitiful. A Timelord, allowing time to master him. But all the same, he waited, until Clara had dropped the young child at school, go to her job herself (assuming she had a job - not that he doubted her exceptional skills) and then come home. There he was, the last Timelord, sat in the lonely TARDIS ...

Just waiting.

-

She couldn't believe he was back. 7 years. Seven bloody years. She had missed him so much, craved his presence so deeply. So much had happened since she had last laid her eyes on that beautiful man. When she discovered the tiny life inside her, that she was pregnant with Grace, she had no idea what to do. She had to live with her dad at first, forced to abandon her nanny job for the Maitlands, trying her best to buy essentials for the arrival of her baby, clothes, a crib, nappies, whilst her dad juggled three jobs to keep them afloat.

And then, Grace was born.

She was, and always would be, the light of Clara's dismal life. Her little girl was more beautiful than any star, planet or galaxy that the Doctor could ever show her, from her perfect, tiny toes to her bright smile and precious eyes. He still hadn't shown up. Clara had kept Grace's surname to Oswald, because the Doctor didn't have a surname. Rumours had been wafting through the neighbourhood that she didn't know the father, that Grace was the result of a reckless one-night stand. Of course Clara knew the father of her baby- but he wasn't here.

Every time she walked through the street, people would stare and whisper. People would look down on her as if she was something on their shoe. Others would gossip to their friends 'oh look! its the slut that forgot to use a condom!' and 'so foolish to forget protection'. She ignored it, obviously, but the words still hurt.

Time passed, and Grace grew up. She was almost 7, and was the image of her mother, aside from her eyes. Her fathers eyes.

Clara found a job, in a school as an English teacher. By then, the rumours had died down, and the people around would actually say hello every so often. She'd even been chatting up another fellow teacher, Danny Pink. She didn't need the Doctor.

And of course, just as she had finally settled into a normal life, he showed up.

 

She told him to leave. She was happy, she had a job, a boyfriend, her child. She wanted nothing more from him. She loathed him. But deep down, she still loved him. A part of her heart believed that he hadn't meant to leave her for so long, that it was just a mistake. The same mistake had happened to one of his previous companions, Amy, and surely if he loved her he wouldn't leave? She had hoped that was the case. But she still had Grace to think about.

What if he left again? What if he let her down? What if he endangered their lives? She had to turn him away. But she regretted it.

-

 

A few hours later, after picking up Grace from her after-school club, she arrived home. The TARDIS was still in it's original place, and outside the blue exterior on a wooden chair reading a book was no one other than the Doctor himself. Clara groaned, but still felt a rush of excitement at the fact that he hadn't left.

"Clara?" He shouted when he looked up from his book and spotted her. Her heart leapt in her chest when he said her name. She had to get in the house quick to avoid an awkward conversation and hope he'd take the hint and leave, but she was still in madly love with him. So she was frozen to the spot as he approached her.

 

Oh boy...


	4. I Waited For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post two chapter at once to apologise for the lack of updating. Please leave your thoughts so far! (I do apologise about how poorly written the chapters are - they were written a while back, and I'm too busy to modify them currently.

"Clara," He sighed. "Please, tell what this is all about. Why do you hate me? Who is that child?" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Please, tell me."

"7 years." Clara stated coldly. "I waited for you, for 7 bloody years. You left me. All alone." A tear started to form in her eyes, but she would not cry in front of him. She would not show him how he had broke her. "The child? That's my daughter. When you left- I- well, I had a few one-night stands." It was a lie, but it worked. She didn't risk telling him the truth. "The last time you saw me, when was that?"

"For me it's been a few hours." said the Doctor as he stroked Clara's hair. "Has it really been 7 years? Clara I'm so-"

"Leave it." She muttered, moving out of his touch. "Apologies can't change anything. Apologies won't take back all those terrible times that I was alone, struggling. And you won't either, because I would not give up this life for anything. I have Grace, I have my boyfriend..."

The Doctor gulped, dread filling his voice, although he hid his disappointment well. "Boyfriend?"

Grace, the young child, skipped out of the house before either of them could continue. She was holding a small, raggedy doll, and her eyes widened with fear when she saw the strange man in talking to her mother. The Doctor crouched down to her level reassuringly, despite Clara's glares. "Hello, I'm the Doctor." He smiled warmly. "Are you Grace?"

Grace nodded, smiling brightly, her dark hair moving on her shoulders. His tone of voice seemed to erase all her fears, it seemed.

"What's this?" The Doctor looked at her small doll with dark brown curly hair and a long blue tattered dress. "A doll? Can I see?" He asked. Grace handed him the doll. The Doctor looked more closely at the doll. "She's very pretty, like you." He said, which made Grace smile. "What's her name?"

"Idris. I named her after Idris Elba, but he's a boy and my dolls a girl." She mumbled adorably, smiling to herself.

The Doctor handed the doll back to her. "What a lovely name. I knew someone called Idris once...she bit me though." The Doctor pulled a funny face and Grace giggled.

"You're a silly man."

The Doctor nodded. "I am. But being silly is fun, isn't it?"

"Mummy thinks I'm silly sometimes, but I'm not really ..." She laughed, before turning to Clara. "Mummy, can the Doctor stay for tea?" Grace begged to her mother, looking up with pleading eyes. "Please, please, please?"

With both their pleading eyes on her, Clara had no other choice but to grumbly agree "Fine." Clara groaned. "Just don't get to close to her, Doctor. I don't want her to become attached to you like I did only for you to run off again." She whispered in the Doctor's ear so Grace wouldn't hear. "Right, I guess I'll go start dinner..."


	5. Did You Love Her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final update of the evening, and then chapter six will be coming on sunday! I just wanted to say I posted this story on Wattpad (where you can find other chapters and other stories) my wattpad is RLandSBindaclub!

The Doctor stepped into Clara's home. It was cosy and neat, with cream coloured walls and a chocolate brown carpet. There was beige sofa next to a fireplace and a matching arm chair near the television. The walls were decorated with pictures of Grace, who the Doctor still couldn't believe was Clara's daughter, and on the fireplace was a small picture of himself, tiny enough to fit in a wallet.

"You're the man from the picture, aren't you?" Grace asked, still clutching her doll tightly to her chest. She was shy, yet slightly bold, a trait that was clearly present in both her and Clara.

He crouched down so he was face to face with the little girl. "Yes, I am."

"Did you know my mummy?"

"Well...yes...quite well, actually..." How could he explain to Clara's six year old daughter that the last time he'd saw her mother, he'd shagged her on the leisure planet Midnight? It wasn't exactly appropriate. "Me and your mum were very close friends."

"Did you love her?" Wow, the questions of a 6 year old really did have no bounds.

"Well...I...suppose-"

"She loved you." Grace smiled sadly. "When I have bad dreams, I go into mummy's room, but I hear her crying. She holds that picture with her every night." The Doctor felt a sudden rush of guilt; he had ruined Clara's life.

"I'm sorry to here that, Grace. How about we help mummy set the table up for dinner so it's all ready when she finishes cooking?" He grinned at her and she mirrored his action. They began laying knives and forks down on the dark wooden table, before filling up glasses of water and placing them down. Grace was sat down on the table facing the Doctor and laughing at his silly jokes. The Doctor was just about to go into the kitchen and help Clara with dinner before he heard Grace pipe up.

"You don't have to worry, I don't think mummy loves you anymore." She said plainly, as if it were nothing, making the Doctor spin on his heel.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor asked, confusion spreading around his mind.

"Well..." Grace rolled her eyes. "Her boyfriend always comes over all the time. It's so silly." She sighed impatiently as if she was about to talk about a subject that annoyed her. "Every single time I want to go to sleep, I can't because they go in mummy's bedroom and make weird noises...it's like there playing games...without me! All mummy does is make weird noises like she's in pain, and she shouts 'DANNY' every five minutes." She leaned close to the Doctor's ear to whisper something. "I think he's torturing her."

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh at that comment, despite feeling jealous of 'Danny'.  
"Is that her boyfriends name? Danny?"

"Danny Pink."

"Well that's a weird name, isn't it! Who has a name that's a colour?"

Grace laughed. "I don't like Danny. He's always grumpy to me...he bosses me about, he pretends he's my daddy, but he's not...he's really mean to me. He says I'm just trying to split him and mum up...that...that my daddy left...because he didn't want....me." Small tears were forming in her eyes and spilling across her cheeks.

He pulled her into a hug. "Grace, that is not true. Your daddy loved you. He probably couldn't be there for you. Maybe he thought it was best that he was out of your life." He patted her back with one hand and stroke her soft, floppy brown hair with the other. "Have you told your mummy?" He asked. He felt a huge bubble of rage inside of him. Yes, the child could be over exaggerating things, but he could tell by the tone of her voice, the tears on her cheeks; this Danny was not exactly her dream dad. He was sure that Grace was such a sweet, clever girl. Why on earth would Danny see her as a threat to his relationship? And why could he be so cruel as to say that she was unwanted?

"She doesn't believe me."

"I believe you." He told her kindly as she pulled herself out of his hug. Her eyes. For someone so young, they looked so sad. He had seen those eyes somewhere, a familiar shade of green had plagued his thoughts. But where did he recognise them from?!

"Dinners ready!" Clara shouted, and the Doctor rushed out to get the plates, full of chips, peas and fish fingers.

"No custard?" He asked Clara playfully with a smirk, who tutted back with a smirk herself.

"Eat. Both of you. I just need to make a phonecall."

"I bet you I could eat more than you." Grace smirked at the Doctor.

"Oh, it's on."

Halfway through their race, Clara came back.

"Everything okay, mummy?" Grace asked.

Clara looked uneasy. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Me and the Doctor were having a race-"

"Which I clearly won." The Doctor added.

"You know, sometimes I forget who the six year old in this house is, you or Grace." Clara sighed, picking up plates and walking to the kitchen.

"Should I get going then? Or I could maybe help with the dishes?" The Doctor asked Clara as she began filling the sink with water, placing his hands on her shoulders. She shivered slightly at his familiar touch. Soft, yet firm. Not rough, but stimulating. He was so much better than Danny, so much-

"You can stay for a while. Just straighten up the living room maybe while I finish these dishes?" She turned around to face him.

"Anything for my impossible girl." He smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead like he always used to do.

Clara continued with the dishes, and as she finished drying the last one, walked into the living room to find the Doctor attacking himself with a sock puppet, Grace clutching her belly because she was laughing hard. This, would be the life they could've had. They could have had a child of their own, with a nice home in the TARDIS and a dog. Even one of the really yappy little things that were too loud, or the big bumbly ones who cuddled too often for their weight. A perfect little life. No mess, no worries.

If he hadn't left.


	6. I Hate Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, apologies if this is poorly written! My writing gets better soon.

Clara brought her thumbnail up to her lip, like she always did, and laughed sweetly at the Doctor, who was handing the sock puppet back to Grace, and he immediately felt his insides warm up.

God, she was so beautiful. Everything about her was just so...so...fantastic! The way she smiled, for starters. He just wanted to lift her into his arms and never let her go when she smiled. And her eyes. The way those dark orbs sparkled with such love for her daughter could turn him into a lovesick puppy. Her nose, her cheeks, her hair, her figure...he could write a novel - perhaps even three - about the things he loved about this woman - but she wasn't his to write about. She wasn't his to admire. Her boyfriend - the one Grace mentioned. Danny, his name was. He was sure as hell lucky to have someone like Clara - the Doctor had only ever had her on Wednesdays, but those were the best days of his life.

To have someone like Clara on your arm was like having riches beyond your wildest dreams. Many people envy you, they want to be you, they want to have something like that. People tell you not to use it all at once, or you'll suffer at the end. And you don't realise how lucky you were to have something so brilliant until it's all gone. That was exactly what Clara was. Except he would give all the money in the world, every possession he owned, just to call her his again. His Clara. His impossible girl.

"I best be off soon, Amazing Grace..." He sighed to Grace, patting her gently on the head.

Grace whined, "I don't want you to go! Mummy, does the Doctor have to go?" She looked over to Clara, who rolled her eyes.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart. You have to go get a bath and then it's off to bed, ready for Thursday. Be a good girl and say goodbye to the Doctor."

Grace stood up and wrapped her arms around the sitting Doctors neck, hugging him tightly. "Will you come back again tomorrow?"

The Doctor shrugged, he looked over to Clara for an answer, and Grace mirrored him. Their eyes pleaded for her to say yes, but she shook her head sadly. "Not tomorrow, Grace. You know what's happening tomorrow."

Grace jutted out her lower lip, her big green eyes watering, as if any unexpected comment or action she didn't like would send her in a rush of tears. "Can't I stay with the Doctor instead? I don't want to come with you and him." The word 'him' was emphasised with disgust, Clara sighed with frustration.

"Grace, I will not tell you again." She warned. "If you don't behave tomorrow at dinner with Danny, you will not get the special treat I promised you -"

A tear fell down Grace's cheek. "I hate him! I hate your stupid boyfriend! He's not my daddy, and he'll never be!" Before either of the two adults in the room could comfort her, she ran off and up the stairs.

The Doctor looked down at the floor awkwardly, standing upwards. He offered Clara a weak smile, grabbing his jacket that was slung over the back of the sofa. "I- I suppose I should get going..." He said, breaking the tension that had been building up.

Clara nodded as a reply. "Y-eah." Her voice was dry and short, it broke as she spoke. "I th-ink you sh-ould."

The Doctor sighed. "Okay, then. See you 'round, I suppose..." His feet shuffled towards the front door, he opened it and walked out, venturing off to the TARDIS

Clara's vision fogged, her eyes began to sting. God, she missed him. He had came back into her life, the one person that understood her fully, the only person that had ever made her feel like the only person in the world, the person that had showed her things that most could never dream of seeing, the person she had loved, and she turned him away. Invited him in for tea, firmly in her grasp and let him fall from her hands like sand, or water. There was no stopping the tears after that. She sunk to her knees, thighs resting on the back of her legs, and she cried. That's all she could do. The numbness she felt at that point was killing her.

The Doctor struggled to get back to the TARDIS without breaking down. For him, it had only been a short while ago that he had showed her the star, her star, the one he had named after her. It had only been a short while ago that he had held her in his arms, felt her bare, sweaty body entangled with his after a night of pure passion and love. But to her, they were just vague, drifting memories that she was just clinging to.

She had loved him, once. She had moved on

But he was still unconditionally in love with her.


	7. Hufflepuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as with every chapter, I promise, the next chapter is very much better. Please don't forget to leave feedback. x

Clara woke up on the couch, releasing a loud groan as she felt an ache in her back. The brunette sat up, slowly recalling the night before's events. She had let him go. It was for the best, she had told herself, but now, she regretted that desicion. It wasn't easy to let him go, it had never been easy to let him go. But it wasn't as difficult for her, she had spent years without him. She had a boyfriend.

For him, it had only been hours. Only hours since he'd held her hand in his, only hours since his lips touched hers for the first and last time. Only hours since they -

She let out a deep sigh and stood up, clicking her back and observing her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was slightly unkempt. Her cheeks were stained with black marks as a result in crying a bucket of tears whilst wearing makeup.

A loud grumble escaped her mouth as she attempted to straighten out her hair.

"Mummy?" A small voice squeaked from the hallway. Grace emerged, wearing her uniform untidily and her hair messily as if she had dressed herself.

It hadn't even dawned on Clara that it was Thursday morning. Or that the time was 8:12 AM and they were both due in school for 8:30 AM.

"Crap," Clara swore under her breath, rushing to the bathroom to go shower. "Gracie, there's Cornflakes in the cupboard under the counter and the milk's in the fridge, make yourself some breakfast, please. Mummy's just going to have a shower - and do not put sugar on your cereal. I always know when you do."

Seven minutes later, at record speed, Clara had managed to wash herself, get dressed and apply some makeup. She ran down the hallway to straighten Grace's appearance up, but voices made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Hold still, Gracie."

"Are you nearly finished, Doctor?"

"Yes - where did you put your bobble?"

"It's around your wrist."

"Oh . . . Have you got your hair band?"

A sigh. "You put it on your head."

"Right. Of course I did."

"You look like a girl when you wear that."

"Oi! Boys can wear headbands too!"

"Except you are an alien."

"Well, that's true."

Clara emerged from the hallway to find her daughter sitting on a chair, all nice and neat with her hair being braided - by the Doctor. He tied the braid at the end and swept the baby hairs that had stuck out of her hair with a hair band that matched her uniform.

"There's mummy." Grace smiled happily, not knowing the tears that both had shed the night before. The Doctors head shot up to look at Clara.

"Clara," he nervously bumbled, " I - I - er, I thought you could use some help. I'll go now if you want me to -"

"How did you get in?" Clara's feet slowly crept towards the Doctor, the urge to kiss him bubbling inside her. She just wanted him.

No.

You don't love him anymore.

You don't.

"Sonic." He pulled out the screwdriver from his pocket and twirled it around his fingers, dropping it clumsily soon after

Grace laughed loudly. "It's a magic wand, mummy."

Clara stifled a laugh. She was shocked that he was there, standing right in front on her, but she didn't care. Because he was there. With her. With her daughter. Where he should be.

"I could drop you off in the TARDIS if you're running late -"

Clara shook her head immediately. Grace was too young. Way too young to understand. She couldn't be a part of his dangerous life. Besides, the machine hated Clara anyway, it had made the Doctor late. Very late. For all she knew, she could be stranded 20 years from now. "It's fine. We'll make it. But thanks for the offer. Grace, I haven't had time to pack your lunch, so I'll give the teacher some money for your -"

She was interrupted by the Doctor waving his hands about like a loony and rushing to the table, picking up a yellow lunchbox with a Hufflepuff crest on.

"I took the liberty of packing some lunch for her. An apple, some cheese sandwiches, a packet of chicken fridge raiders and a bottle of juice. I saw the picture of the fireplace of Grace wearing Hufflepuff robes in the The Making Of Harry Potter at the Warner Bros Studios in London, so I assumed she'd like this lunchbox." He grinned at Grace, whose jaw had dropped with surprise and excitement. He handed it to her before stroking her hair softly, smiling warmly.

The little girl smiled thoughtfully. "That lunchbox is for me?"

"Yep," the Doctor replied. "All yours. But only if you do as your mummy tells you to; that includes being nice to Danny."

Danny. It had completely slipped her mind that she was due to have coffee with him in the staff room 10 minutes ago.

You never remember Danny when he's around, do you Clara?

"Come on, Grace, it's time we get going. Say thank you to the Doctor."

She had completely avoided his gaze in fear of losing all her willpower and crumbling into his arms. A wall had been built, a façade, not only to protect herself but to protect her daughter. Last night she had lost herself, and she never wanted to do that again. Never.

"Thank you, Doctor." Grace smiled, wrapping her arms around him in an enormous hug. He picked her up and span her around, making her squeal with delight.

"Grace," Clara repeated. "Car. Now."

The Doctor sighed, placing Grace down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She ran outside the door and into the car, oblivious to the tension building between her mother and the Doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor." Clara smiled sadly. "I appreciate the help, but it can't happen again."

The Doctor nodded glumly as Clara turned to follow her daughter. "I know, I know. It's just -"

"What?" Clara stopped dead in her tracks.

"Nothing," he lied. "I'll get going."

With those three simple words, he walked past her, out the door, across the street and inside the TARDIS.

No hug.

No kiss.

No goodbye.


	8. School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My current notes: I can't standing my writing. I apologise.
> 
> My previous notes when I first wrote this:
> 
> I am so sorry for not updating in agesssssss.   
> For Cordelia and Myrtle, they're supposed to be Myrtle Snow and Cordelia Foxx from American Horror Story: Coven. Google them.  
> I apologise for my shitty writing skills, and my mistakes, but I've tried my best. Hope you enjoy! I love you all so much for taking the time to read this. There's exactly 3000 words in the chapter!
> 
> \- A)

"Kick the chair one more time, Grace! I dare you!" Clara warned her stroppy daughter, who was sulking behind her in the back seat of the car.

"Why do I have to go to school today, mummy? I feel sick!" Grace whined. "I hate my teacher!" She folded her arms across her chest and scowled, creasing her clothes.

Clara silently groaned to herself. For the past few days, Grace had a slight disinterest in going to school, complaining every so often that this and that had occurred. But today, she was having none of it. She had kicked, screamed, stomped, bashed and yelped. It did no use, though.

"Whether you like Miss Adler or not, Grace Tiffany Oswald, you are still going to school. I have to go to school to teach, as well. They're the rules."

"Can't we just break the rules, mum? Just once? That's what they're for. It's like a big red button. What's the point in having it if you can't press it?"

Clara smiled softly, her anger subsiding. Because no matter how hard she tried, how hard she tried to drive her daughter onto a sensible, obedient path, she still was exactly like her father. It seemed as though it was not only some of his charming looks she had inherited.

"Gracie," Clara began, toe pressing gently on the brake to bring the car to a steady, gradual halt. "Sometimes rules are there for reasons. If you don't go to school, you can't learn things. I know you're already the cleverest little girl ever, but even you don't know everything."

Grace thought for a moment. "I know lots of science. And we watch space programmes -"

"Documentaries, sweetheart. Still, no one in NASA got a job purely on their knowledge from watching How The Universe Works and Through The Wormhole on the Discovery Channel. Although you are very good at remembering the names of moons . . ."

"I want to go to the moon one day," Grace mumbled, looking down at her fingers, interlocking them and fumbling around. "Like properly go. In a space ship."

Clara smiled wistfully, beginning to move again as the lights turning green. "I've been on the moon."

"Don't be silly, mummy. You're just a teacher."

"I have. With Angie and Artie. You know, the ones we go to the pictures with every month?"

She nodded, rolling her eyes and sighing. "Angie always plays with my hair and braids it. I don't like it. It's annoying!" They turned the corner into Meadow Valley Primary School car park, the partnering Primary school to Coal Hill, which was just across the road.

"I'll tell you all about my adventures of the moon if you be a good girl in school. And I won't hesitate to ask teachers, little miss!" She pivoted in her seat, looking back at her daughter, who was unbuckling her seatbelt and clutching her new lunchbox tightly to her. "Off you pop, sweetheart. Have a good day."

Grace opened the door, hopping out of the car and pulling the falling shoulders of her cardigan back up. "Bye mummy! Don't spend all day snogging your boyfriend!" She shouted cheekily to Clara, who faked shock and annoyance.

"Right, you, I'm giving you three seconds to run inside before I jump out and bite your head off!" She laughed. "One . . . Two . . ."

Grace squealed, running into (literally, into) the doors of the school entrance and bumping her face, before yelling, "I'm okay!" To her panicked mother. "See you later!"

\-----------------------------------

Danny checked his watch, for at least the eighth time that minute. 8:27 AM.

With that, he walked over to the main office, two coffees in his hands, up to the desk, where two women were. The first, an old woman with crimped, ginger hair, wore a frightfully neon pink jumper with atrocious black disco pants that widened at the ankles, with cat-eye glasses on the tip of her nose and wrinkles across her face. She was typing absentmindedly on the computer, every so often sipping her cup of tea, leaving red lipstick stains of the rim of her plain white cup. The second, a much younger and beautiful woman, wore her blonde hair down and straight, framing her face; with beautiful, deep brown eyes and pink, plump lips. She wore a baby blue blouse tucked neatly in a black pencil skirt, with stockings and suitable black heels. She, too, was typing at her own computer. The fan opposite of the huge, half-circle desk which they both sat at provided relief from the early October mildness - and the schools broken heater.

"Delia . . ." Danny smiled charmingly at the blonde. "How's your day going so far, my American Beauty?"

Cordelia didn't even look up from the screen, still typing away. "Oswald not in today, Pink?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Whenever she doesn't come in, without fail, you come in here with a coffee asking for sexual favours - I made an educated guess." Her American accent was sharp and hard, as if she was annoyed at him.

She was.

He shrugged innocently. "So? I haven't got a class first lesson, and I'm sure Myrtle over here wouldn't mind filling in some files . . . Right, Myr?"

Myrtle looked at him blankly for a split second before resuming her work, fingers typing seemingly faster.

"Come on, Dee . . . Just a quick shag in the loo?" He leaned forward, elbows on the taller front of the desk, whispering in her ear. "You know how much you loved it last time . . ."

"Last time was the last time, Pink. It was before I knew you were in a relationship with Miss Oswald. And you know I have Hank, now. Get out."

"At least let me buy you a drink after work?" He suggested hopelessly. "I'm a sucker for blondes."

"I guess I should go brunette, then."

Suddenly, the doors opened sharply and Danny jerked away from Cordelia to see Clara rushing in, breath hurried. "Sorry, I couldn't make coffee, Dan, slept in. Morning Dee, morning Myr."

"There you are, Miss Oswald," Cordelia smiled warmly at Clara, and Myrtle nodded towards Clara with a small smile as a return. "I have a note from the principle - sorry, Headmaster; for you." The blonde held up a pink sticky-note for Clara to grab. "Still haven't haven't quite got used to using the terms over here . . ."

"S'alright," Clara smiled back, taking the note. "I went to America a while back with the Doc- my friend, and when I asked for a rubber everyone looked at me like I just screamed bloody murder . . . Had to correct myself later on, though. Friendly person told me to call them erasers next time, otherwise I might be promptly asking for condoms. Didn't help that I was with a male friend, either . . . seven years ago, it was."

"Ah, well, at least you got it right in the end."

Clara laughed, pulling her bag up her shoulder. "Just about. Right, I need to get to my classroom for form, so I'll come back when I'm free for lunch. Tata . . ." She began to walk away, pulling the door open and walking through it.

"Never let us Americans try to correct you for it, though - there's a reason it's called the English language and not the American language! Bye, Miss Oswald!" Cordelia called out laughing to her as she disappeared into the corridors. Her careful gaze darted back to Danny venomously. "I suggest you tread carefully, Mr Pink. Miss Oswald is a lovely woman and I will not hesitate to reveal your dishonesty if you so much as speak of this again. And I can guarantee it would not do so good for pupils to know of this either. Now, if you don't mind, I have some punctuality records to fill out."

\-------------------------------------

Clara walked into class 9CO with a bright smile on her face. Her troubles that had been discussed with the Doctor the night before were completely out of her mind, pushed aside. Only a few minutes to go until the bell rang.

She quickly placed her bag down behind her desk and set to work with loading up SIMs to take the register. She rifled through the records when they had loaded to check for anything; negative comments, positive comments, lates or absences.

There were only a few things to be looked at. Daniel Taylor was due to go to the dentist at 10:10 AM that day, as confirmed by Myrtle; Brendan Wilson had failed his conduct book; Olivia Parry was due for a lunchtime detention for prior bad behaviour and Sarah Ashcroft had two negative comments from the day before.

The bell rang at 8:30 AM and soon the class came flooding in. Every few seconds afterwards another pupil would hesitantly rush in, some would sneak in, hoping to not be caught. Clara took the register, asking the class to be silent, and left it open in case any other pupils were late.

"You're late, Alicia," Clara tutted at a tired looking girl that had walked in seven minutes late.

"Slept in," she replied monotonously, slumping down in a seat at the back of the class and immediately throwing her head on the table with a loud thump. "Late night."

The girl beside her added, "Maybe you shouldn't stay up 'til 2 o'clock watching anime, then,"

"Shut up, Lizzie." She laughed sleepily.

"Nah."

"Quieten down a bit, ladies. We're inside, now, no need for outdoor voices," Clara smiled at them. "I tell that enough to my daughter at home."

"You have a daughter, Miss? How old is she?"

"She'll be seven on the 31st of December." She replied. "A New Years Eve baby. Her name's Grace. My dad told me to call her Eve, because of her birthday, but it just sounded so cliché. Oh and also, before I forget, I need to see Brendan and Sarah outside before you all go to first lesson."

She dealt with both of the 13 year olds. They had quite a lot of attitude for two year 9s, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

"I never even done nothing," Sarah moaned.

Clara shook her head and sighed. "Firstly, Sarah, it's 'I didn't do anything,', and secondly that's not what SIMs says. You got a comment from your history teacher for rude behaviour and a comment from your dance teacher for refusing to participate in her lesson."

Sarah snarled rudely at Clara, jaw snapping open and closed as she chewed gum. "I don't even care about dance, though, Miss! An' history's stupid, innit? This schools a load a' bollocks."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that, Sarah. You're on a conduct book as of now. You know how the rules go. Highest effort is 5, lowest is 0. If you get less than effort 4 in a lesson you've failed your conduct book. You keep failing it, you're on it for longer. Come back to me to get it signed at the end of each day, and make your parent or carer sign it, also. Understood?" She held out a conduct book for Sarah to take, which Sarah snatched rudely and huffed back into class. "As for you, Brendan, you got marked three for your behaviour in Maths. Don't bother explaining yourself, I've had a chat with your teacher and she told me what happened. Given the circumstances, and the fact that I know what type of pupil you are, I'll let it slip. But it's to never happen again, and no one is to know, okay? Hurry into class and get your things, hun, it's nearly quarter to nine."

\-------------------------------------------

The playground was slightly cold, due to the time of year. Children, ranging from different ages, sizes, genders and races, ran around everywhere, completely wild. They screamed and giggled as the cool breeze drifted through the air. Slightly browning trees surrounded the grey concrete, and it was all kept safe with a tall grey metal fence that circled the entire school. Beyond, a little girl sat at a little outdoor table by herself, reading a book quietly.

Grace, even at her young age, didn't really have friends. She didn't run wild and climb trees, or scrape her knees, or play tag. She preferred the peaceful company of books, especially her favourites: Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver's Travels and Lord Of The Rings. Her mother read to her every night, without fail, except the night before. It made her bond with her mum a lot closer, a lot more stronger. And she loved to surprise everyone she met, because it was very rare they ever came across a girl of her age with her reading capabilities. She wasn't even seven years of age, and she could read, write and talk better than most of the children double her age.

She was reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, one of her absolute favourites. Her tiny, delicate fingers flipped the page when she had finished reading each page, which was in awfully quick time. It was one of her favourite moments, when Hermione punches the mean Draco, and her lips spread into a faint smile.

Suddenly, out of the blue, the book before her completely disappeared, yanked from beneath her eyes. A tall, older boy with brown, stubbly hair and nasty, sharp dark eyes held it above her, just beyond her reach. His lanky figure was surrounded by other boys and girls, who laughed.

"Give it back!" She growled at him, small hands reaching upwards. "I said give it back!"

"What'll you do if I don't, eh? Look at you! You look like Dobby!" The boy snarled. He teased her cruelly, letting the book be so close before snatching it back again.

"I don't care! Just give me it back, Derek! I'll - I'll tell someone!"

He chuckled darkly. "They can't stop me from doing this, though -" slowly, he brought the book down towards him, tearing a page slowly. "Are you going to cry? Cry to your mumsie-wumsie like the little baby you are? Are you gonna get your dad to batter me? Oh wait -" he looked around at his little gang of podgy friends around him, making sure he had a crowd to watch his clever but crooked comment. "- She hasn't got a dad!" He laughed wickedly, erupting a roar of cackles and pointing fingers at Grace from other kids.

In that moment, a flash of fury flickered in Grace's young green eyes. Her seemingly fast heartbeat became erratic and quicker, fists clenching and unclenching. She could've cried. She could've screamed. She could've rampaged. She could've unleashed the fury that the inherited genes of her father had presented her with. But in that one particular moment, Grace did what she had learnt from the brave heroine in her beloved book that was being torn to pieces.

And she did it hard.

\-------------------------------------

"Is no one going to answer my question?" Clara sighed to her Year 9 English class. The room was completely silent, save for the clicking of pens and the tapping of feet. "How does Steinbeck use foreshadowing to describe Curley's wife?" She had asked her daughter a few nights before, and she immediately could give the perfect answer. And it was the 13-14 year olds that struggled.

A small girl, Elena, finally piped up. "In the part where she walks in. It says the light in the doorway is cut off by her silhouette."

Clara nodded, smiling proudly. "Excellent. But does anyone know what this suggests?"

"It could hint at a bad ending. The light symbolises George and Lennie's happiness, and Curley's wife's shadow cutting that off could mean that some actions done to or caused by her may end their happiness," Elena concluded.

"Brilliant, Elena." Clara looked around at the rest of her glum pupils expectantly. "I'm glad to know that at least one person in this class contributes in lessons. So, now that we've covered foreshadowing, let's move on to discuss the connotations in her appearan-"

Knock knock.

"Come in!" Clara shouted.

The heavy wooden door of the classroom creaked open quietly. Cordelia stood in the doorway, a note in her hand. "My apologies for disturbing your class, Miss, but there's been a phone call from Meadow Valley about your daughter. They've requested for you to come and collect her immediately, as they can't get hold of anyone else." She spoke quietly, restricting the students of hearing the conversation for privacy reasons.

An eruption of quiet gossip erupted from the class, and Clara dismissed them all quickly with the raise of her hand and a loud 'shh'.

"Who's going to cover for the rest of the day?" Clara asked, panicked. What had happened? Why did Grace need picking up? Was she sick? Upset? Was there an incident in school?

"I've spoken to Eileen, she's covering for today," Cordelia reassured as Clara gathered her things.

"Thanks for letting me know, Delia," Clara sighed with relief, pulling on her jacket and throwing her bag on her shoulder. "See you tomorrow, everyone."

She walked out the door, leaving Cordelia standing awkwardly in the doorway with the year 9s. They all looked at her as if she were a foreign alien from Space, waiting for her to do something.

"Umm - Miss Mars should arrive soon . . ."


	9. Fabulous O.A.P

"It hurts, mum," Grace whined loudly, her tone of voice indicating the terrible pain she was in. Clara pressed the ice pack she had received from the school on her daughters bruised hand gently, Grace wincing with pain.

"M'not surprised, sweetheart," Clara laughed quietly. "You punched him in the bloody face."

"He called me Dobby, mum." She yelled in defence.

"You punched him in the face."

"He ripped my book."

"You punched him in the face, Grace."

Grace paused for a moment, looking down sadly. Her glossy green eyes filled with tears, and she looked back up. "He made fun of me because I don't have a dad."

Clara's heart seemed to tear into piece after piece at that statement; she brushed hair away from her daughters face, behind her ears, and kissed her forehead gently. "Gracie . . ."

"Why did he leave us, Mummy? Did he not love us anymore?" She paused for another moment, realisation dawning on her young face. "Did he not love me?" A single tear dropped from her eye and rolled down her pale pink cheek, like droplets of rain on a car window. "It was all my fault, wasn't it?"

"No, no, no, no, Grace!" Clara sighed, pressing more gentle, motherly kisses on her forehead and hair as she hugged her tightly. "Sweetheart - don't you ever think that for a second. You are perfect, and lovable, and brave, and smart, and caring, and everything he was. Your daddy would've loved you. He didn't have a choice, sweetheart. He left by mistake, without even knowing so. I'll bet your little cotton socks he would rip apart the universe if it meant he could've been here with us, watching you grow up . . ." She rocked back and forth slightly, trying her best efforts to comfort and reassure her young, strong little girl. Grace was never really the crying sort of child. Of course, the odd bump or scratch did strike a watery eye or a pouty lip, and the teasing did flicker a bit of a controlled rage, but never , unless the circumstances were extreme, did she ever cry like this.

They stayed like this for a moment until Grace had calmed down, and Clara pulled away from their hug slightly to confirm that she was, in fact, okay.

"Okay now, sweetheart?"

Grace nodded, smiling weakly. "I'm fine, mummy." She sounded slightly unsure, but all the same, Clara accepted it. Her daughter was strong, far stronger than she could ever comprehend. She pulled away from the back seat of her car and left the ice pack near Grace, shutting the door of the car and climbing into the front. She placed the keys in and started up the car.

"Have you got everything, Grey?" Clara doubled checked, staring at her daughter through the mirror. "Your bag? Your books? Your lunchbox?"

"Yep." She nodded, holding them up as evidence. "Are we going home now?"

"Of course we are. I just need to pop in to see grandad for a bit. That alright?"

Her eyes lit up. "Definitely."

-

Clara turned and drove through the moderately quiet streets, going past cafés, churches, pubs ... Until finally, only a few short minutes later, arrived at her desired destination. Her small car pulled up on the curb outside her fathers home. Grace, over-excited as she always was, was jumping up and down in her seat with impatient anticipation. Both girls unbuckled their seat belts and Clara opened the door the step out, slamming it gently and opening the back seat door for Grace. Her daughter emerged quickly, crashing through the small iron gate and into the front garden were Dave waited patiently, leaning against the frame of the doorway, a huge grin present on his face.

"Grandad!" She held, propelling over to him at great speed as he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her into the air.

"There's my little troublemaker!" He laughed heartily, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Come on, let's see your battle injuries, soldier."

As Clara struggled with her few bags, Grace's lunchbox and coat in her arms; the little girl in Dave's arms held up her swollen, bruised hand for inspection. He studied it carefully, gently cupping her hand.

"Crikey, no wonder your mum got called in," he winced. "You must've broken his blimmin' jaw."

"He deserved it!" Clara called out to them both, struggling to open the gate with her hands full. "And right now, I think I deserve some help. Don't you reckon?"

Dave popped Grace onto the floor, patting her gently on the head for good measure, and approached the garden gate. "Sorry, love. Just making sure my main priority is okay."

"And am I not one of your main priorities, seeing as though I'm your only child?" She raised a questioning eyebrow.

" 'fraid not, love. My priorities are as follows -" smirking, he grabbed a bag from Clara and held out one of his hands, outstretched his fingers to count. " - Grace, myself, food, beer, and the Chase."

"I always knew you had a thing for Anne Hegarty," she joked.

"The governess? Nah ... M'more of a Bradley Walsh person. The legs on that man -" he fluttered his eyelashes, flicking his hands about and making his voice higher, more feminine. "Makes me weak at the knees, coo weeee -"

Grace cackled with laughter loudly, and Clara giggled as her father paraded through the garden, the bag's handle resting on his elbow as he demonstrated his best diva walk.

"Out of the way, girlies! Fabulous O.A.P coming throughhhhh!"

-

There they were sat, in Dave Oswald's comfortable, cosy living room; the chocolate-coloured curtains were drawn, giving out a soft light. Dave, as usual, sat on his brown, worn out arm chair, whilst Clara sat on the leather sofa; and Grace, cross-legged on the cream coloured carpet (which had one or two stains from juice spilling and other such unfortunate accidents.)

Clara sipped a cup of tea slowly, not too strong, with one sugar. Her father the same, except he was nibbling a biscuit. To be perfectly honest, his action was not 'nibbling', nor was it a single biscuit he was consuming. No wonder the greedy git looked eight months pregnant.

Grace, on the other hand, graciously drank her Capri-Sun, indulging sneakily into a packet of Cadbury's chocolate buttons that her grandad had smuggled to her. Of course, Clara knew this. Clara always knew. He did the exact same when she was a little girl, and her mum would pretend to be cross when she discovered their secret stash of sweets in a shoebox. There were far bigger worries that Clara concerned herself over rather than her daughter's secret addiction to chocolate. Worries that, unlike any others she had faced, concerned her past, present, future, and lives she had never lived before. Damn timelines.

"You stupid cow," Dave groaned, addressing the television in the corner where the Chase was playing. "Why the bloody hell would it be Rupert and Ellie? Everyone with a bloody brain cell knows Harry Potter's mother and father were -"

"James and Lily Potter," Grace finished for him, smiling.

"Yeah," he agreed. "James and Lily, they were ... See? Even a seven year old knows -"

Of course, her daughter and father were both right, and the woman (Shirley from Kent who worked as a shop assistant) let out a groan, exclaiming at how she 'knew it was that one.' Lying cow.

Dave laughed with joy, clapping. "Aha! See! Got it wrong, haven't you, you daft bat! Oh, for the sheer love of God, I hope the chaser gets the arrogant old cronie out. Come on, Anne. Come on -!"

"Dad ..." Clara interrupted out of the blue, breaking his trance to the television. "Can I tell you something?"

"Just a mo', love," Dave told her, dipping his biscuit in his tea. "There's £3000 at stake, here, and if this lot manage to all get through I think I'll end up having a stroke. What is it you want to talk about, anyway?"

"It's about him, dad ... He's back ..."

Clara wasn't sure if Dave understood what him actually meant, but he soon made it known that he was fully aware, as he froze, the biscuit breaking off into his tea with a plop. Yes, he knew.

"Him?" Dave repeated back to her incredulously, shock absorbing his every feature. "That Doctor?"

Clara sighed. "Yes, dad. Who else would it be? George the bloody fourth?"

Dave looked dumbfounded. "What do you mean he's back, Clara? He's left you for nearly 8 years and he just waltzed back into your life?"

"I don't mean it like that, Dad ..."

"I should bloody hope not! Don't you remember what he did to you ...? Please tell me you aren't gonna let that sod ruin your life again, because if he ever comes near you or Grace again I'll shove a baseball bat right up his -"

"Dad!" Clara warned. "There's a child here!"

Grace, clearly too busy eating, was not listening to the conversation. Either that or she had a very, very convincing poker face.

"I wouldn't give a shit if my bloody mother was here!" He whispered angrily. "You have got to tell him to piss off."

Clara shook her head, setting down her tea. "I can't dad. Not when he had no idea of doing it. Not when I remember the way he loved me -"

"Don't you remember everything else? How you struggled to buy nappies and clothes for Grace? How you had to work three jobs to get a bloody house? The things people said! You got pregnant!"

"I'm not bloody stupid, dad!" Clara hissed. "I know exactly what happened. But in case you hadn't noticed, without that you wouldn't have her!" She gestured to Grace.

Dave seemed to pause for a moment, regretting his words. It had came out worse than it should've, and he loved the very bones of Grace. He would die for both his girls, and the time was coming when he probably was going to.

"I'm sorry, Clara, I didn't mean it like that -"

Clara dismissed him. "Leave it, Dad. I have to go home and get tea on. Come on, cotton socks." She lifted Grace into her arms and grabbed her bags, despite Dave's protests. "I'll phone you when you actually try and respect my opinions."

Without another word, Clara walked out the door with Grace. Dave was still sat in his chair, unsure of how things had escalated so quickly. His old eyes fell towards the television, where the credits of the Chase began to roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep having problems with this website but oh well! Enjoy a chapter update.


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